


Feeling Epic

by rox2the_anne



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Bisexual Simon Snow, Crushes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Meetings, Funny, Getting to Know Each Other, Heartbreak, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Simon Snow, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Slow Burn, SnowBaz, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Vampires, Witty Banter, Writers, writing simon snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rox2the_anne/pseuds/rox2the_anne
Summary: Simon Snow is a nobody from nowhere. He grew up in the care system and has no family and one friend. His creative writing professor sets up an internship for him at Pitch Publishing. Upon meeting him, the editor in chief decides to give him an epic back story.





	1. Prologue

I take a deep breath then knock twice on the door.  
“Come on in,” Professor Bunce calls from inside her office.  
I open the door and have a seat in my usual chair in front of her desk. I glance at her, as I make myself comfortable. She’s typing rapidly and hasn’t looked up from her computer screen yet. A few awkward moments later, she turns her attention to me and smiles tightly. I compulsively push my shoulders back slightly and sit up a bit straighter. Professor Bunce always makes me feel so self-conscious. I feel like she’s constantly looking for something in me and coming up disappointed. My best friend, Penelope, who happens to be her daughter, says I’m being paranoid every time I bring it up, but I still can’t shake the feeling.  
“Simon, thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you’re a busy man,” she says, smiling kindly, then taking a sip of her tea. She makes a face at it and pushes it to the side. “Cold,” she explains.  
“It’s no problem, ma’am. What’s this about?” I wipe my palms on my knees as discreetly as I can, but apparently, she sees because she lets out a small chuckle.  
“There’s no need to be nervous, Simon. We’re just talking,” she assures me. “I wanted to talk to you about your latest paper. Well, all of them, really, but this last one in particular.”  
“Is there a problem?” I ask. I wish I didn’t sound so anxious. I want to sound sure of myself and my decisions. I want her to take me seriously. I’ve never gotten a bad grade in her class, but I don’t feel like I’ve got the talent some of my classmates do. I feel like a fraud and I’m terrified of being found out.  
“Not at all,” Professor Bunce says looking a bit surprised that I’d even ask. “You’re my most promising student this year, Simon.”  
“I am?” I blurt. Professor Bunce chuckles again.  
“Yes, yes,” she says, standing up and coming around to the front of her desk to perch in front of me. “In fact, how would you feel about an internship at Pitch Publishing starting next week? My friend, Natasha Grimm-Pitch started the company right after we finished college together. She tragically passed away, but I’m still friendly with the family, and they’ve agreed to take you on.”  
“Me?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. I’m touched. She set up an internship for me? I’m her most promising student? I thought she thought I was an imbecile. “You really think I could pursue writing as a career?”  
“I do,” she says smiling warmly, “I shared your last paper with Mr. Pitch, and he seemed very eager to meet you. I think this will be very good for you. That is, if you agree,” she adds. She reaches behind herself and picks up her tea again. She takes another sip and grimaces, “Dammit!”  
I laugh at her forgetfulness, feeling much more lighthearted than I did moments ago. “You and Pen are just alike,” I tell her, “and, yes, I’d love to do the internship. Thank you so much for the opportunity.”

{+}

I’ve just opened the front door to my flat when I hear a piercing shriek behind me. Before I’ve turned completely around, I’m tackled, and my arms are pinned to my sides by a crushing bear hug.  
“I’m so excited,” Penelope gushes. She looks up at me with her face smushed against my side and her glasses all crooked. I laugh and start working my arms out of her grip so I can hug her properly.  
“Are you going to elaborate or just squeeze the life out of me?” I ask as I wrap an arm around her shoulder and guide her into my living room.  
“I got an internship for medical sales through Watford Recruiting Solutions,” she pauses for affect and wiggles her eyebrows, “in Chicago.”  
“With Micah?” I ask eagerly.  
“Yes,” she squeaks. Now it’s my turn to hug her.  
“That’s awesome,” I tell her, “I’ll miss you though,” I add selfishly.  
I haven’t spent a school break apart from Penny since the 7th grade. I’m glad that Penny and Micah will have some time together finally, it’s been too long, but I’m not looking forward to a summer all alone.  
“Oh, nonsense,” she says pulling away to face me, “my mum told me your great news too. You’ll be so busy at Pitch Publishing, you won’t have time to miss me. I’ll only be gone for three weeks.”  
“I’m sure your right,” I agree. I don’t really believe it, but I don’t want her to feel guilty for something good happening to her.  
“Now,” Penny says, plopping down on my couch, “let me read that story my mum was raving about.”  
{+}  



	2. Hello, Mr. Pitch.

It’s been two days since I dropped Penny off at the airport, saying goodbye to her for the summer, and four days since Professor Bunce told me about the internship. Now, it’s 7:54 AM on Monday morning, and I’m standing in front of the massive and intimidating gothic building that is Pitch Publishing.   
I tell myself not to be too nervous. After all, I’ll most likely just be fetching coffees and filing things away for some stuffy old book editor all day. A credit is a credit though, so let’s do this. Hell, I might even learn a thing or two.   
“Good morning, Pitch Publishing,” a surreally beautiful blonde girl says into the phone as I make my way to the front desk. She looks to be about my age. She gives me a dazzling smile that should be illegal this early in the morning and holds a finger up as she listens to the caller. “Absolutely I can help you with that. Just one moment and I’ll transfer you.”  
She presses a few buttons then hangs up the receiver. She makes a note in a small, black notebook then finally looks up at me, “How can I help?” she asks.   
“Uh, I’m starting an internship today,” I say. It comes out a bit like a question.   
“Ah, I see,” she says, “one moment.” She picks up the phone once more and presses the number one. “Mr. Pitch, please. Thanks…Hello, sir, Simon Snow has arrived,” she pauses for a moment and looks over at me. I give her an awkward thumbs up and she winks. I think I quite like her. “Of course, sir,” she says and hangs up.   
She stands and walks around to meet me. She’s shorter than I thought she’d be. The top of her head comes to my shoulder.   
“I’m Agatha Wellbelove,” she tells me, reaching out to shake my hand. “Mr. Pitch asked me to show you around a bit.”  
“I’m Simon,” I say, then I let go of her hand, “but I guess you knew that.”  
“Oh yeah,” she says, walking over to the elevator and pushing the up button, “everyone’s been gossiping about you since Mitali was here last week. It’s been quite a while since we’ve had any fresh meat around here.”  
“I see,” I chuckle. “How long have you worked here?”  
“Oh gosh, let me think, I was eighteen when I started so… nearly five years? Wow. They should throw me a party,” Agatha tells me. “Must remember to schedule that when I have a moment.”  
The elevator arrives and I gesture for Agatha to walk ahead of me. She pushes the number 14 and I notice that the floor numbers skip 13.  
“Twelve to fourteen?” I ask.   
“Bad luck,” Agatha says with another wink.   
“Is that… weird?” I inquire as politely as possible.   
“Only that you’ve never noticed before,” she says smiling slyly, “It’s that way in like _all_ buildings.”  
“No way,” I respond earning me a giggle. “You’ve a nice laugh,” I remark.   
“Why thank you,” Agatha says. The doors open, and she steps out into a brightly lit hallway. “This is where you’ll spend most of your time,” she says while we walk. She points into various rooms and tells me what they are. Publishing, Editorial Department, Creative, Website maintenance, the bathrooms… I’m not really interested until she shows me the kitchenette that she tells me is always stocked for the employees and that I can help myself anytime. She shows me where my cubicle will be, and then she finally brings me back to the elevator.   
“Now we’ll go see, Mr. Pitch and he can give you instructions for your first day,” she informs me. We step back onto the lift and she presses the button labeled PH.   
“I thought penthouses were in apartment buildings,” I say.  
“They usually are,” Agatha responds, “Mr. Pitch lives here though, so he took the whole top floor for himself.”  
I nod. That’s pretty cool.   
When the doors open, it looks like we’re in a very posh lobby or what is it that they call them? A foyer. There are doors to the left and to the right. Agatha points to the right.   
“Under no circumstances do you ever knock on this door,” she advises, sternly yet gentle at the same time. “If you come to see Mr. Pitch, you’ll only go to his office door,” she points to the door on the left. It’s labeled Editor in Chief, “If he doesn’t answer, just leave a note or something.”  
“I understand,” I say, “Right door bad, left door good.”  
“Exactly,” Agatha says with another giggle.   
I wonder what the policy is on interoffice dating for interns and receptionists. Agatha checks her watch for the time then gives me a small pat on the shoulder.   
“Well, this has been a delight, but I’ve got to run,” she tells me, “Those phones aren’t going to answer themselves.” I smile at her tightly and nod. I’m suddenly nervous now that I won’t have her as a buffer. “Good luck,” she adds, then traipses back to the lift. She catches my eye before the doors close and mimes for me to knock then mouths “Go on.” The elevator doors close and I’m alone. 

I decide I had better go ahead and get this over with. Standing out here in the hall, fretting about meeting my new boss isn’t going to do me any good. I knock three times then take a step back. I hear a loud scraping noise, a chair, then a lot of shuffling around. The door creaks open slowly, and I’m suddenly face to face with the most gorgeous young man I’ve ever seen. Surely, they don’t see cover models here? Am I indeed at the correct door? Maybe this is Mr. Pitch’s son…I’m suddenly embarrassed by myself for two reasons. One- I’m ogling whoever this man is and Two- I probably should have spoken by now. I clear my throat and look down at the floor as I feel my face grow terribly warm.   
“Yes?” The man asks, leaning against the door a bit. He cocks his head to the side and a bit of his long, dark hair falls down into his face. He impatiently swipes it away from his eyes.  
“I was uh, looking for Mr. Pitch,” I tell him. I self-consciously rake a hand through my curls. I feel like a total slob all of a sudden. I hope I don’t look too unkempt.   
“Look no further,” the man says, moving aside and gesturing for me to enter the office.   
I don’t move though. Instead, like the idiot I am, I allow my jaw to drop and stammer out, “Y-you’re Mr. Pitch?”  
“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, looking amused.   
“Basilton Pitch?” I ask. I have to make sure.   
“Last time I checked,” he answers. His amused expression is turning to confusion. Shit, he’s probably wondering if he made a mistake by hiring me.   
“Excellent,” I say. I hurry past him, awkward as hell, and have a seat in a chair in front of his desk. He makes his way, elegantly, to the one behind the desk and arches an eyebrow at me.   
“Not what you expected?” he asks.   
“Well, no, to be honest,” I answer, “I thought you’d be much older, balder, fatter and perhaps smoking a cigar.” I certainly didn’t have this tall, slender, porcelain skinned, exotic… There I go again. I look up into Mr. Pitch’s eyes and I see that his amused expression is back.   
“That’s… detailed,” he laughs, “I like it.”  
I laugh too. Nervously. “So, um, Agatha, er… Miss Wellbelove said that you’d have instructions for me?” I ask.   
“We’ll get to that,” Mr. Pitch says dismissively, “first tell me about yourself, Simon Snow.”  
“Oh, uh, not much to tell,” I say, “I’m a fourth year literature major and…” Mr. Pitch waves a hand to stop me.   
“I already know your academic history,” he says, “tell me about _you._ ”  
“Even less to tell, I’m afraid,” I shrug and smile, but he isn’t appeased. “Ok, well, I grew up in the care system, I bounced around from home to home… I was fostered a few times, but nothing ever stuck. I didn’t really make any friends until I was about eleven and I met Penny at school. We’ve been friends ever since. We even live together now.”  
“Your girlfriend?” Mr. Pitch asks. His brow is furrow in interest and his arms are tucked tightly over his chest.   
“Oh, no,” I say, “nothing romantic. She’s like my family.”  
Mr. Pitch sits back and places a hand on each of the arms of the chair. He motions for me to continue.   
“Oh, uh, that’s it. I mean, besides school, that is,” I say.   
Mr. Pitch stares at me intensely. A darkness is slowly clouding over his striking features. I raise my eyebrows in silent question. I can’t exactly find my voice right now, but I’d love to know what he’s thinking.   
“But you’re Simon _Snow_ ,” he says finally.   
“Beg pardon?” I ask.   
“You have such an interesting name… It’s partially why I was so keen on meeting you. How could a person with a name like Snow be so ordinary? Less than ordinary. Under the radar even,” he leans forward now, studying me. I’m trying to decide if I’m offended or not when Mr. Pitch slams a hand down on the desk in front of me.  
“No,” he says, “You’re special. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”  
I laugh at this and hold my hands up in surrender, “I swear there’s nothing. I’m not special. I’m no one.”  
Mr. Pitch squints his eyes at me, “I don’t buy it.”  
“I’m not selling it,” I quip.   
Mr. Pitch smiles at this then stands up. He walks over to the door to his office and opens it. He tosses his head, gesturing for me to leave. I stand up and walk over to where he’s standing, feeling completely confused. Are we done here? It doesn’t feel like it.   
“Go to the fourteenth floor and find a bloke named Niall in Legal. Find some contracts to file or something,” he says dejectedly. He seems agitated, but I can’t for the life of me, imagine why. I nod and move to walk through the door, but Mr. Pitch reaches an arm across the doorway, halting me. I look at him, and he’s close. Very close. I stop breathing, and my heartbeat picks up a bit.   
“You have until tomorrow to tell me about the real you,” he says. His words are heavy. Laced with a double meaning that I’m not quite grasping, so I just nod again, unsure of how to respond. Mr. Pitch pulls his arm away and I walk out.   
{+}

“Are you Niall?” I ask the rusty haired young man with horn rimmed glasses sitting at a computer in a room labeled Legal. He finishes whatever he was typing then smiles up at me.   
“I am,” he says, “What can I do for you?”  
“I’m Simon Snow; the intern,” I tell him, “So, I guess I should be asking what I can do for you.”  
“Brilliant,” he says, standing up to shake my hand, “how well do you know your alphabet, Simon?”  
“I don’t want to brag, but you could say that I’m an expert,” I say smugly. Niall laughs and crosses the room to grab a box.   
“You’re all right, Simon,” he says thrusting the box at me, “put these hard copies in that dinosaur of a file cabinet by last name, would you?”  
“Sure thing,” I take the box and set to work.   
{+}  
I’ve been arranging contracts in piles all around me on the floor behind Niall’s desk for nearly an hour and I still have more boxes to get to. I let out a low whistle, “Mr. Pitch wasn’t joking about finding something to file, was he?”   
“Oh, you’ve met him already?” Niall asks, not looking up from his work.  
“Yeah,” I say, “Is he a little…”  
“Intense?” Niall offers.   
“Yeah but like… eccentric… maybe?” I’m trying my best to sound as respectful as possible, but I can’t think of another word to describe him.   
Niall barks out a laugh, “Oh yes. Definitely. Too much time up there alone, I think.”  
“Also,” I add, “Is everyone at the company in their early twenties or is that just a coincidence?”  
“No, not all of us, but most of us, yeah,” Niall stops typing and looks over at me. “The company itself is about thirty years old, but Baz has only been CEO since he was nineteen about seven years ago. He mostly hires friends. You know, people he can trust.” _Nineteen?_  
We’re interrupted by a knock at the door. It’s open, but I can’t see who it is from my seat on the floor between the desk and the filing cabinet.  
“Hey, Fiona,” Niall says.   
“I hear my nephew has hired himself some eye candy with a fairy tale name,” Niall’s visitor gibes, “you know anything about this?”  
Niall points to me with a pen he was writing with, “You mean this guy?”   
I lean back so that she and I can see each other, “Hullo,” I wave. The woman is without a doubt, related to Mr. Pitch. She has a warmer skin tone, but similar bone structure and statuesque features. She also has the same hair color as Mr. Pitch; only her hair has a shock of white in the front. I wonder if Mr. Pitch’s hair will do that when he’s older.   
“What the hell are you doing on the floor?” she asks by way of greeting.  
“I have a system,” I tell her.  
“Right,” she seems unconvinced, but I’m not too concerned about it. I’m just wondering who told her that I’m eye candy… “Well, it’s good to see you’re actually working, and not just perched on Baz’s lap or something,” she says, making me blush. I try and fail to keep the mental image from my mind. “See you around.”  
“See you,” Niall and I both call to her, but she’s already gone.   
Niall looks over at me and we both start laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s my second day now and I’m actually looking forward to it this time. Niall and Agatha made me feel right at home; we even went out to lunch together; along with a man named Dev, who I found out is Mr. Pitch’s cousin. I walk through the front doors and smile brightly at Agatha.   
“Good morning,” she chirps happily.   
“Morning,” I say as I walk to the lift and press the up button.   
“Simon?” Agatha calls. I turn around to face her. “Mr. Pitch wants to see you first thing.” I step onto the lift and my smile droops considerably. I don’t know how I feel about another one on one with my beautiful weirdo of a boss. He said he wanted to know the truth about me today. I’ve told him the truth. What more can I say? I guess I could tell him about my parents…but that seems a bit too personal.  
As soon as the doors open to the top floor, I see Mr. Pitch. He’s shutting the ‘bad’ door to his apartment and he’s got his left arm full of papers. He’s noticeably less put together than he was yesterday. He seems to be wearing the same suit pants he had on yesterday, although they are a bit rumpled now, and on top he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt with a large, gray cowl neck cardigan over it. He looks over at me and his face lights up.   
“Snow,” he says, a bit breathlessly.   
“Mr. Pitch,” I respond, and he waves a hand dismissively.   
“Call me, Baz, eh?” He asks, making to open the door to his office. I rush over and pull the door open for him, so he doesn’t drop anything. He smiles at me appreciatively and my heart flutters a bit in my throat. What is with me?  
He walks over to his desk and starts sorting through his papers. I sit down in front of him and pull my bag over my head and set it down on the floor.   
“So, uh… I know you asked me to tell you the truth today, but I gotta tell ya…” I begin, but Baz holds up a hand. I shut my mouth and watch him fiddle some more with his papers.   
“That won’t be necessary,” he tells me, “I already know,” he gives me a crooked smile that most definitely means trouble.   
“You do?” I ask, uncertain if I’d like for him to continue. What has he found out about me? Is it something even I don’t know? Is it something I _want_ to know?  
“Indeed,” he says, then he hands me a single sheet of paper.  
“Simon Snow and the Mages Heir,” I read out loud. I look up at him in confusion. “Who is the Mage’s Heir?” I ask.   
Baz crosses his arms over his chest, his go to power pose, I think, and scoffs, “Like you don’t know,” he says.   
“Are you feeling alright, Mr. Pitch?” I ask, setting the paper down to give him my full attention.   
He rolls his eyes, “It’s _Baz_ ,” is all he says, then he motions for me to pick the paper back up. I do.  
“My name is Simon Snow, and I am completely ordinary,” I read aloud, I laugh a little then continue on, “or so I thought,” I look up at Baz to find him watching me. I don’t know why but this makes my cheeks warm a bit and my heart swells in my chest. “I’ve never been special; I’ve never done anything to stand out. All my life, I’ve been in the care system, never knowing who my parents are or where I come from. Every day, I wake up, make my bed, go to the cafeteria and eat my breakfast then I sit alone in the tv room, or outside, if I’m allowed, idly bouncing a red ball that I always keep with me.   
At the moment, I’m sitting on the couch, gazing out the window and imagining what it would be like if my real parents finally found me today. I like to tell myself that they didn’t give me up willingly and that this was all some sort of horrible mistake. That they love me, and they’ve never stopped searching for me. My mum will be kind and beautiful in a natural sort of way, and she’ll weep when she sees me. My father will be strapping and athletic; a professional footballer or something like that and he’ll hug me tight for thirty whole minutes.”  
I look up at Baz and he’s still watching me. “What is this?” I ask him.   
“Just keep reading,” he says.   
“I’m pulled from my daydream when a man walks into the room and stands before me. ‘Hello, Simon Snow,’ he says to me. ‘’Ello, sir,” I reply.” I look up at Baz.  
“I’ve a cockney accent in the scenario, do I?” I ask him.   
He shrugs and leans forward on both arms, “Lancashire,” he replies.   
“Leeds,” I say.   
He makes a scandalized face at me, “Tell no one.”  
I roll my eyes, and begin to read again, “‘Let’s go for a walk. I have much to tell you,” the man says. We make our way out the front doors, stopping so that he can sign me out, then we walk to a nearby park.   
‘I’m the Mage,’ he says to me, once we’re, out of earshot of any passersby, ‘I’m from what we call The World of Mages, and you, Simon, are very important to that world.’ ‘I don’t understand,’ I say. I’m beginning to think he’s got the wrong Simon Snow. I am about to tell him as much when he smiles kindly at me and chuckles a bit, ‘Nor would I expect you to,’ he says, ‘our world has been hidden from you your whole life. But no longer. You are what is called a Magician, and you are now that you are eleven, you are finally of age to attend the finest school of magicks in the country, Watford. I’m the headmaster, and you will from henceforth be under my care.’ ‘I don’t think you mean me, sir,’ I confess, ‘I don’t do any magic.’ This doesn’t seem to bother The Mage in the slightest. He gets to his feet and begins walking back towards the care home. ‘Oh, but you will, Simon. If I’m right, and I _am_ right, you’ll be the most powerful Magician the world has ever known.’”  
I’ve come to the bottom of the page, so I stop reading. There’s nothing on the back.   
“This is a joke, right?” I say to Baz.  
“Ooh, yes,” he says scrambling for a pen then tossing it to me. I don’t catch it and it clatters to the ground. Baz frowns at me, “Write that down. That’s what you should say next.”  
I don’t move to pick up the pen. “So, you’re a writer,” I say.   
“I used to be,” Baz replies, “now I edit other people’s work.”  
I hold up the paper, “This looks like writing to me.”  
“I haven’t written anything in a long time,” Baz says slowly, like he’s considering how to proceed, “Your lack of an epic backstory was… unsatisfactory to me. I decided to remedy that.”  
“But why?” I blurt. Surely, he doesn’t do this with everyone he meets.  
“Hard to say,” Baz sighs. “My whole life, I’ve been telling stories and making up worlds. In grade school I started writing them down. My mother was in love with books and I wanted to write them for her… So, I did. I’ve written more books than I care to count. Then one day. It was gone.”  
“What was?” I ask.  
“The magic. My magic. The stories,” Baz sighs again then pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks exhausted. “I inherited this business from my mother. My Aunt Fiona, her sister, took care of things until I was old enough to step in. I had dreams of publishing my own great novels, but instead I perfect other people’s tales. When Mitali sent me your paper… I couldn’t think of anything I would change. I’ve never had that happen. Your story was moving, and insightful, and beautiful. And _Simon Snow_ wrote it.” He stops talking and rests his head on one hand, looking at me, “Last night, I was sitting in my living room, trying to go over a manuscript, but I couldn’t get you out of my head. Your name, your paper, your face, that hair…Suddenly, it was there. Out of nowhere, this story was there, in my head,” he holds up the papers he walked in with and I can now see what it is. Notes. “The story of Simon Snow.”  
God, he’s intense. Does he even realize what he’s saying to me? I avert my eyes from his, “You keep saying my name like that.”  
“It’s a great name,” Baz says.   
{+}  
I spend every morning of my first week like that; with Baz. It’s just the two of us in his office, making up my epic backstory. He asked me a lot of questions about Penny. He said that every hero needs a side kick and that it has to be her since she’s stuck with me for so long. I tell him I can’t imagine Penny being anyone’s sidekick and he says he’ll keep that in mind.   
He asks me about my childhood and about my experiences with foster families. There isn’t much to tell. I only stayed with about four, and three of them had so many children at one time that it wasn’t much different than being at the home. There was this one woman though. I don’t remember her name, but she was kind to me. She told me that I was important and that I mustn’t ever give up on my dreams, even though I told her I didn’t really have any. She would tell me that I reminded her of her brother, and she’d tell me all kinds of wonderful stories about them in their childhood. She’d only stop when she started to get weepy. She always got weepy, but I liked it. No one ever got emotional in any way with me, but she did. I never saw her again after our time together, but I doubt I’ll ever forget her. She taught me what it was to be a friend.  
He asks me about my parents and that’s when I clam up.   
“My mum’s dead,” I say, “s’all I know about her.”  
Baz looks up from what he was writing, “And your father?”  
“He was, uh, unfit for fatherhood,” I tell him. I look away and that’s that. Baz doesn’t ask me about them again. We’re quiet for a while until he puts his pen down and looks at me again.   
“My mum died too,” he says. I’m not really sure what to say about that. I feel a bit understood now, and I hope he does too. I just give him a nod and he smiles weakly at me. We both get back to work and don’t speak again until it’s time to leave again.   
“You can go ahead and take off,” Baz tells me, “Most people do half days on Fridays.”  
“Ah, cool,” I say, picking up my bag and looping it around my shoulder, “I’ll go make sure Niall is all good then head out.” Baz seems pleasantly surprised by my statement. “See you Monday,” I say with a wave.   
He gives me a tight-lipped smile, “Monday.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an uneventful weekend...

I hate Saturdays. I’m lying in bed and I have no motivation to do a damned thing today. I’m not really sure what to do with my weekend with no Penny around to hang out with. I’ve only spoken with her on the phone a few times because of the time difference. We mostly text and Snap each other. Two more weeks, I tell myself. Two more weeks and we’ll both be done with our internships and things can go back to normal.   
I should have agreed to go out with Agatha. She stopped me on my way out the door yesterday.   
“Simon, wait up,” she called as she finished packing up her purse and practically ran after me. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”  
“You were?” I’d asked.   
“Yeah, I, uh…” she bit her lip, then promptly rolled her eyes and stamped her foot. It was one of the cutest things I’d ever seen. “Would you want to go have dinner with me tonight?”  
For the life of me, I have no idea why, but Baz’s face came into my mind at that exact moment.   
“I can’t,” I’d said, “but maybe another time, yeah?”  
“Sure, sure,” she said, shifting from foot to foot. I don’t know why, but I felt embarrassed. I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck.  
“So, I’ll, uh… see you Monday,” I said, “We’ll have lunch.”  
Agatha brightened considerably at this, “Ok, sounds perfect. Bye, Simon. Have a good weekend,” and with a wink she was gone.   
I roll over in my bed now and cover my head with my pillow. Why did I say no? And why did I try to make up with it with a lunch date? Should I ask Niall to join us so that it isn’t weird. Ugh. Why would it be weird? What’s wrong with me? I’ve been on tons of dates with many, many women. It’s not a big deal.   
_It’s because she works for Baz and he’d find out_ , a voice says in my head.   
“Shut up, me,” I say, out loud.  
Baz. I wonder what he does with his weekends. Works, most likely. Creepy hermit.   
{+}  
It’s Sunday, and I decide that I could use some time outdoors. It’s cloudy, of course, but it’s still nice to be outside. I don’t know if I’m cut out for life in an office. I think I’d go a bit mad with cabin fever if I had to sit in the same room forty hours a week. I need to be around life and people and nature. Perhaps I should give up writing and go work at a zoo. I’d like to feed the elephants, I think.   
I’ve been walking aimlessly, not really paying attention to where I’m going. I look up to see if I can spot a nearby hamburger restaurant when I see a familiar building. How did I wind up back at Pitch Publishing? I look up and try to place which window is Baz’s. All of the windows on the top floor are closed, and all of the blinds and curtains are drawn. I don’t like it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's turn the tables on Baz a bit, shall we?

I walk into Baz’s office without knocking, the following morning. I place two cups of coffee on his desk and scoot one towards him.   
“For you,” I say.   
He looks at the coffee a bit warily, “Thank you?”  
“Why is that a question? I haven’t poisoned it,” I snap.   
Baz makes a face like he’s not sure if he should believe me or not, then he tries again.   
“Thank you, Snow. That was very thoughtful,” he says very formally.   
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. Baz picks up his coffee and takes a sip. The tension in his shoulders releases and he sighs happily.   
“You know, I was thinking,” I say, “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is quite an impressive name.”  
He quirks and eyebrow at me, curious, “Snow, did you Google me?”  
I ignore his question, “It deserves an epic back story as well, don’t you think?” I ask.  
Baz chuckles, and starts straightening his notes, “I don’t know about that.”  
“Oh, I do,” I say, “Actually, you know, at Watford, I had a roommate.”  
“Did you now?” he asks, trying to keep from smiling.   
“Yeah, a real piece of work, he was,” I say. “Very posh, old money type. Bit of a snob, even. Tall, dark and brooding, you know the type.”  
“Indeed, I do,” Baz smiles and licks his lips, “He sounds very dashing and dare I say handsome?”  
“Uh huh,” I agree, “all the ladies wanted a piece of the Pitch.”  
“But, alas, he only had eyes for you, I’ll bet,” he says.   
“Naturally,” I wink, then I tsk and sit back, “Unfortunately though, we didn’t get on at all for _years_.”  
“Years?” Baz asks with wide eyes. I nod. “That’s a lot of pent up emotions for the bloke. I feel quite sorry for him now. Having to share a room with someone he’s secretly in love with. Must have been tough.”  
“Must have been,” I concur.   
“Why didn’t you get along?” Baz asks. He’s picked up his pen and notebook now, ready to take notes.  
“Politics mostly,” I say, “You see Baz’s family hated the Mage and everything he stood for. They groomed young Baz to despise him too, and since I was the Mage’s Heir, me, as well.”  
“What about you?” Baz asks. I raise my eyebrows in question, “Do you hate Baz?”  
“Well, I did,” I admit, “He was rude and insulting… he’d play mean pranks on me and make fun of me when I had trouble in class. He was awful. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s a vampire.”  
Baz looks up from his notetaking and deadpans, “You’re reaching, Snow.”  
I widen my eyes and lean away from him, feigning shock, “That’s exactly what he would say.”  
Baz laughs and puts his things down so he can stretch properly. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and throws his hands over his head. The movement causes his shirt to ride up a bit and I can see a sliver of his pale skin underneath. My stomach does a small flip, then growls. Baz’s eyes pop open and he looks at me.   
“Hungry Snow?” he asks.   
My face goes hot, “Yeah, I skipped breakfast this morning.”  
He picks up his phone to check the time, “You can take an early break, if you’d like.” He opens up a text message and starts typing a reply while I stand there awkwardly deciding if I want to take a chance or not. I do.   
“You wanna have lunch with me?” I ask. He stops typing and looks up at me a little surprised. “My treat,” I add. _Come on_ , I want to say. _I know you were flirting with me before._   
“I better not,” he says, and my heart sinks to my stomach. “I, uh, yeah… better not.”  
“Alright then,” I say, trying not to sound as rejected as I feel. “Shall I bring you something back? We can eat in here…”  
“No, that isn’t necessary,” he says, adopting that very formal tone again, “I’ll just have something delivered. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”  
Tomorrow? “I see,” I say, “Bye then.” I walk out before I say something stupid, or let on to how disappointed I am. I feel like such an arse. What was I thinking asking him to lunch? I bet I’ve been reading him wrong this whole time. Oh, God. This isn’t good.   
{+}  
I find my way to Niall’s open door and knock on the door frame. He smiles up at me from his spot in front of his computer.   
“Lunch?” I ask.  
“God, yes,” he replies, “Let me send this email real quick.”  
I lean against the wall in the hallway and wait for him. When he emerges from the office, he’s looking at his phone and I see that he’s texting with Baz.   
“Where’ve you been all morning, by the way,” he asks me.   
“With Baz,” I say, “We were working on that story he started.”  
“Oh, it’s Baz now, is it?,” he asks, nudging me with his elbow. That right there… that should mean that Baz is into blokes, right? “A story… like a book?” Niall adds.  
“More like a creative writing exercise,” I say. “It’s fun.”  
“Good,” Niall says, “Good for him. Lord knows that guy needs some fun, and I’m glad to hear he’s writing.”  
“I asked him to come out to lunch. He said no,” I say with a shrug.  
Niall looks surprised, “He said no?” I nod. “Well, he doesn’t get out much,” he adds.  
“He’s a bit hot and cold, isn’t he?” I ask.   
“You have no idea,” Niall says, then he mutters, more to himself than to me, “I will never understand that man.”  
“Why do you say that?” I ask.   
“I shouldn’t say,” he says, then squints his eyes a bit, “but ask him to lunch again tomorrow.”  
Niall and I collect Dev from the accounting department then Agatha from reception on our way out. We all agree to split a pizza and sit outside at a small table in front of the restaurant. We mostly talk about school and work, but then I ask them each how they know Baz. From Dev I get to hear stories about Baz when he was a little kid and then when they started boarding school and met Niall. Niall tells me about Baz’s perfect grades and rebellious streak. The three of them went to uni together (part time because they were all working here as well). Agatha’s family has been close with Baz’s for years. She admits to having a girlhood crush on him then getting shot down. “The good ones are always gay,” she says, and I smile, playing it off like I think her joke is funny… My smiles slips though. If he’s gay, then that wasn’t the problem. He just isn’t into _me_.  
{+}  
I can’t sleep. I’ve been laying in this bed for three hours now and it’s time to admit defeat. I get up and wonder into the kitchen. I make myself a cup of tea and grab a tin of biscuits from the top of the fridge. Should I invite Baz to lunch again like Niall suggested? Or should I just drop it? I don’t want to embarrass myself. Again…  
“He doesn’t get out much,” Niall had said.   
Why the hell not?  
“Oh my God, that’s it,” I say, jumping up to grab my laptop. I spill my tea, but it will have to wait. This is too good. 

{+}  
I knock on the door to Baz’s office and wait for several minutes for him to answer. When he finally does open the door, he’s buttoning his cardigan (the same one from yesterday). He swipes some errant hairs out of his face and gestures for me to come in.   
“You’re early,” he says, having a seat in his usual place, “I told you, you don’t have to knock anymore.”  
“Yeah, I know,” I sit down across from him and let huff out a nervous breath. Why does he make me so nervous? “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday, it seemed like a knocking occasion.”  
“Apologize?” He asks, knitting his brows together.   
“It was uncool of me to ask you to lunch like that,” I say looking at him through my eyelashes, “I hope you can forgive my thoughtlessness.”  
“Snow, I don’t think you get what-“ I hold up a hand to quiet him.  
“An explanation isn’t necessary, Basil,” I tell him in a faux haughty tone, “I already know.”  
“You do?” he asks, arching an eyebrow in a way I’m beginning to enjoy. I nod and produce a sheet of paper from my messenger bag. I hand it to him and wave my fingers, indicating that he should read it.   
“My name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and I am a powerful magician. I’ve known it my whole life. Everyone in my family is. It’s in our blood. Literally. Powerful magicians marry powerful magicians. It helps to keep our magic from becoming “watered down”. We’re bred for greatness. I was bred for greatness.   
Today is to be my first day at Watford School of Magicks. There was a massive debate within my family about whether or not I should be even be here, but in the end, my father’s say was final, and he voted that I should indeed go to Watford for two reasons. One: To show the Mage that he doesn’t bother us, and you can’t keep and good family down and Two: Because my mother regarded a fine education above all else, and she would have rolled over in her grave if I didn’t go to the best school possible because of some political squabble.   
My father also gives me a secret, third reason to attend Watford this fall when he pulls me aside after breakfast, this morning. Apparently, the Mage has adopted a son of sorts. A boy everyone is calling the _Mage’s Heir_ , like it’s some sort of official title. My father wants me to take him down.   
We arrive at the school about an hour before the Crucible ceremony begins. I saunter around the lawn, casually looking for my cousin Dev, who I heard arrived yesterday. I find him easily. He’s sitting in a tree, trying his best to look cool. I find someone else easily too. There’s the boy wonder, following the Mage around like a damned puppy, practically clinging to his ankles. The Mage’s Heir. I don’t get a good look at him at first. He’s just a pale, skinny kid with too big jeans and bronze hair. The Mage says a spell that I’m vaguely aware of as I stare down his new minion then suddenly, I’m being pulled towards them. It takes a second for it to dawn on me. The Crucible…  
The bronze haired boy hesitantly walks over to me and offers me his hand. I don’t take it. I can’t. This can’t be happening to me. I’m to room with the Mage’s Heir for the next eight years of my life?  
The boy is holding a hand out for me to take, looking agitated, ‘I’m Simon Snow,’ he says. He looks into my eyes and I forget how to speak for a moment. Boring blue. The rest of him though… he’s quite… nice to look at. I dismiss the thought as soon as it occurs to me.  
‘I know who you are,’ I reply, schooling my face into an unimpressed expression.   
‘Take my hand,’ he says, thrusting it out a bit more.   
Slowly, I reach out, pretending like every moment we aren’t touching isn’t excruciating for me. I hear his heartbeat pick up as our hands touch and I chalk it up to first day excitement. I jerk my hand away as soon as the magic is satisfied.   
I turn and walk away quickly before he has the chance to say anything else to me. This can’t be happening. I am so fucked. I was already stressed over the thought of hiding what I am from my roommate… How will I hide the fact that I’m a vampire from the Mage’s bloody Heir?”  
Baz puts the paper down and levels me with an almost threatening stare, “I’m a vampire? Really? You’re not giving that up?”  
I shake my head fervently, “It’s too important to me.”  
“As you wish,” he says, taking out a pen and writing something on the paper.   
“Don’t take it out,” I bark, making to take the paper back.   
“I’m not,” he says pressing it to his chest, “I was just making one little note.”   
When he finishes writing and circling a paragraph, he hands the paper back to me.   
“Something about the red ball here,” I read aloud, “What’s with the red ball?”  
“I don’t really know quite yet, but I’ve got some ideas. I’d like to hang on to it. At least for now,” he says, “Could be useful later.” I wish I could see inside Baz’s mind. I want to see his thought process. He’s so complex and wonderfully weird.   
“This is fun,” I tell him. He looks up at me, and I wiggle my eyebrows at him.   
“It is,” he agrees. He starts smirking at me and I ask him what’s so funny. “Is this how you cope with men who deny you?” he asks, “You turn them into monsters?”  
“Ah, that was a first,” I admit, “Therapeutic though.”  
“First what?” he asks, “Rejection or monster?”  
“Monster,” I say, “I’ve been rejected loads of times.”  
“I find that hard to believe,” he says, not quite looking me in the eye.   
I shrug, “You did it.”  
“Yeah, but I have issues,” he says, as if that should pacify me. It doesn’t. I want to get him out of this office. I want to see him in the light of day. He doesn’t even open his window. Does he ever breathe fresh air?  
“We all have issues,” I counter, “I have hella issues and I asked you out.”  
“Fair enough. Are you going to do it again?” Baz asks, swallowing hard. Ah, Niall must have mentioned something to him after all.   
Baz is so awkwardly straightforward. It’s odd and refreshing at the same time. I feel like it helps me to be more open though, so there’s that.   
“No, I don’t think I will,” I say, and I swear he looks disappointed. Maybe I just want him to. “Niall said that I should, but,” I pause to shrug, “You’ll ask me out when you’re ready.”  
“Ah, I see,” he says, nodding thoughtfully then squints his eyes at me suspiciously. “You aren’t going to start trying to seduce me, are you?”  
“Nah, no need,” I say, “My plan is to show you that I’m not an arsehole and that you can trust me. Then perhaps we can go from there,” Baz doesn’t give me much of a reaction so I raise my eyebrows and point towards the switch on the wall with my thumb, “Or should I just say, ‘sod that’, and hit the lights?”  
Baz gives me a withering look, “Cute, Snow. Let’s call that plan B.”  
{+}  
Baz and I work on our story for the rest of the morning. We only stop a couple of times so that Baz can walk to his apartment to retrieve a few things. (A book and then, later, some scones and tea.) This isn’t quite what I had in mind for my internship. I’m not really learning much about the business side of books, but I’m having such a good time that I decide to worry about the rest later.   
When one o’clock rolls around, we have more than half a whole book outlined. Baz said he hasn’t written anything in years, but he’s lightening fast with his ideas today and we work off of each other almost perfectly. The only disagreements we’ve had are over character names and whether or not I was allowed to put Baz’s impressive widows peak in his description.   
“How is that important to the story?” he asks.   
“It’s dead important. It completes your whole vampire vibe,” I tell him.   
He gives me a look that tells me he thinks I’m being silly, “You do realize I’m not actually a vampire?”   
“That is yet to be determined,” I reply. Baz rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, so I’m satisfied. “Talking of vampirism,” I say, getting to my feet and walking behind his desk to the window, “can I open this thing, or will the sunlight burn you?”  
“Be my guest,” he says, without looking up from whatever he’s writing.   
I draw the curtains open then crank the window open. The sun and air feel so nice on my face that I just stand there with my eyes closed and enjoy it. When I open them, I look over my shoulder to where Baz is sitting. He’s looking up at me with a sort of wistful expression on his face.   
“Happy now?” he asks.   
I shake my head and reach out for him, “Almost. Come here.”  
Baz cocks his head away like he thinks I’m messing with him or something. I roll my eyes and thrust my hand towards him a bit more, “Come. Here.”   
Baz takes my hand and allows me to pull him up from his chair. Once he’s standing in front of the window, I drop his hand and turn to him. He isn’t bursting into flame, so there goes that theory, I guess.  
“ _Now_ are you happy?” Baz asks. He’s trying to sound all put out, but he’s lacking the proper bite to his words. He likes this; I can tell.   
“Admit it. Isn’t this nice?” I ask, “The fresh air, the sun…”   
“I don’t need the sun,” Baz says, not looking at me, “I’ve had you in my office the past week.”  
I’m thankful that Baz isn’t looking at me because it takes me a moment to get my ridiculous smile off my face. I stop myself from reaching out and taking his hand again, but I do allow my pinky to brush up against his. My heart starts picking up its pace and my mind is yelling at me, “More! More!” but he stiffens a tiny bit at the contact, and I pull away.  
I sit down and start packing up my things.   
“Going somewhere?” Baz asks.   
“Yeah, it’s past lunchtime, and I’m starving,” I say, “I’m going to head down and see if I can catch Niall or Agatha.”   
Baz nods then turns back to the window, watching the street.   
“See you tomorrow,” I call from the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Today, Agatha ordered several pizzas for all of us to share because Dev has to do a working lunch. We’re all sitting in his office. It’s pretty quiet on the accounting floor, and we don’t want to disturb anyone, so we don’t talk much while we eat. I’ve sat on the floor, offering Agatha the only other chair in the room, but she declines and sits by me. Niall takes the chair and barely looks up from his phone while Dev types away on his computer.   
“We eat like this quite a bit,” Agatha whispers to me, “seems like at least one of us is always biting off more than we can chew.”   
“It’s nice that you guys want to be together. Even if it is like this,” I tell her.   
She smiles prettily at me and bats her eyelashes. I take another bite of pizza and she giggles.   
“What?” I ask with my mouth full.   
She reaches up to my chin with her napkin and wipes away a glob of tomato sauce, “You eat like a wild animal, Simon.”  
I bare my teeth and growl at her, “That’s because I am one.”  
She squeals and pretends to cower in fear. We start laughing and are promptly interrupted by someone clearing their throat. I snap my head up to see who has come in and of course, of fucking course, it’s Baz. He looks angry.   
“Can I speak with you for a moment?” he asks. I start to get to my feet, and he holds up a hand then points to Niall, “I meant him.”  
Niall gets up from his seat and we all watch as he steps into the hall and Baz closes the door.   
“What’s his problem?” Agatha asks Dev.   
He just shrugs, “He’s been acting weird all week. Moodier than usual.”  
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Agatha says.   
We sit in complete silence for a while and finish our food.   
“So, Simon,” Agatha finally says. I look at her and raise my eyebrows. “We should go get a drink tonight.”  
“Ooh, we should,” Dev chimes in, “How ‘bout it, Si?”  
Agatha looks a bit put out, but I will love Dev until my dying day for being the presumptuous, oblivious git that he is.   
“Sounds like fun,” I say to them both, “Let’s invite Niall and Baz too, yeah?”  
Agatha nods and says she’ll make reservations, but Dev shuts her down, “Let’s just go to the corner pub.”  
“Brill,” I say, “I can’t wait.”  
{+}  
I wait for Niall near the bike rack outside the building after work.   
“Did Dev tell you about our plans tonight?” I ask.   
“He did,” he grins, “Should be interesting.”  
“Cool,” I say and then, because I have no chill, “do you think Baz will come?”  
“I’d be amazed if he did,” Niall replies, then smirks, “though, he might if _you_ asked him.”   
He hops on his bike and pedals away before he can see me roll my eyes (or blush). I want so badly to ask Niall to tell me what he knows. I know he and Baz are close… what has Baz said about me? I look up at Baz’s window and see that the curtain is drawn again. For a moment, I consider heading up there, opening it, and asking him to join us tonight, but I don’t. I told him I wouldn’t ask him out again and that he could trust me. So.   
{+}  
“Simon Snow,” I hear someone yell my name and I look up from my phone. I scan the crowd of smokers outside the bar and find Dev waving me over.   
I wave back to him, making my way through the people to get closer.   
He offers his cigarette to me and I shake my head. He shrugs and takes a drag. “Niall and Ags are inside at the bar.” I nod and turn to walk in but he grabs my elbow, lightly, “Are you into her?” he asks.  
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Agatha. I think about how I considered asking her out on my first day. Before I met Baz, “Um, no…not… no,” I answer awkwardly.   
Dev chuckles and claps me on the shoulder, “I was just checking, mate. I think she likes you and I don’t want to see her hurt, is all.”  
I’m not really sure what to say here, so I just nod. I make a mental note not to be too flirtatious with her. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.   
I walk into the bar and spot Agatha’s blonde hair and pink dress straight away. Niall is sitting next to her, wearing the same thing he wore to work and a backwards cap. He’s leaned over the bar talking into the bartenders ear. I sneak up behind him and poke his side.  
“You made it,” he yells over the music. I smile and nod. I look over at Agatha who is looking at me expectantly.   
“Hey, Ags,” I say. She smiles and pats the stool beside her and I take a seat.   
“Hello, Mr. Snow,” she says coolly, “You look great.”  
“Oh, thanks,” I say, “You too.” I gesture to her dress and she waves a dismissive hand at me.   
I order a pint and make nice small talk with my coworkers. Dev joins us and sits next to Niall. I hear Baz’s name pass between them and look at their mouths trying to figure out what they’re saying, but I’m shit at reading lips. Niall shakes his head and Dev rolls his eyes and I get the picture. They asked him to come and he declined.   
Before long, we’re all at least three drinks in and getting more animated with our chats. I tell Agatha all about Penny and how I think they’d actually get along quite well even though she’s such a girly girl. Agatha laughs at this and playfully punches my arm.   
“Well, I’d love to come over and meet her someday,” she says, batting her eyelashes like she does.   
“She won’t be home for another week,” I say bluntly, “What’s up with Baz?”   
Agatha looks a little confused by my abrupt change of subject, but it doesn’t phase her too much, “What about him?” she asks.   
“Why isn’t he here? If you all are such good friends, why is he never around?”  
Agatha looks a little sad and I immediately regret asking about it. She sighs and looks over her shoulder at Niall and Dev. They aren’t paying attention; they’re both looking at something on Dev’s phone.   
“He hasn’t been the same since the break up,” she whisper yells.   
“Break up?” I scoot closer.   
“Yeah, he dated this guy…He who shall not be named…for a long time. Like... four years? They even lived together. I think Baz thought they were going to get married. Then one day, he announced that he was turning the top floor of our building into a flat and we never saw his boyfriend again.”  
“So, what happened?” I ask.   
Agatha shrugs and takes another drink of her martini, “I’m not really sure. Baz never told us any details. Fiona once referred to his ex as a son of a bitch cheating piece of… well you know, so there’s a hint for you.”  
“He cheated?” I ask in complete disbelief. Agatha nods. “Who the hell would be stupid enough to cheat on Baz? He’s bloody perfect. Or he would be if he weren’t a damn hermit.”  
Agatha looks at me in a way that tells me I’ve said too much, “Oh my God, you love him.” She puts a hand over her mouth dramatically. I look around in a panic, as if anyone besides Dev and Niall even knows who we are, and I shush her.   
“No, I don’t,” I lie.   
“Niall,” she calls over my shoulder. I throw a hand up over her mouth, but she bites me and I release her.   
“Ow, Ags,” I say, wiping her spit on my pant leg. She sticks her tongue out at me then we hear Niall clear his throat behind me.   
I turn around to look at him and he’s giving us both a withering look, “Are you guys eight years old?”  
“Simon loves Baz,” Agatha squeals. My face goes fiery hot and I can’t even look at Niall.   
“I know,” he says simply.   
I look up at him in shock, “You _know_?” What the hell does he mean he knows? I barely know.   
“Dude, you talk about him every chance you get,” he takes a drink of his beer, “you aren’t exactly subtle.”  
“Ok,” I say, trying to regroup, “just because I talk about him-“  
“And think he’s perfect,” Agatha interjects.  
“And think he’s perfect,” I admit, “doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.” My friends look at me like they aren’t going for it. “Look, I just think he’s nice to look at, and I enjoy being ‘round him, and I want him to be happy.”  
Agatha’s face says it all: We both know she’s right.   
{+}  
Agatha and I decide to call it a night shortly after Niall and Dev start singing their favorite songs from the Mama Mia! soundtrack. (Apparently, Agatha forced them into watching it at their last movie night.) It’s a warm night and there are people all over the sidewalk. A man almost bumps into Agatha, but I grab her arm and pull her out of the way. She looks up at me and smiles.   
“You should just tell him how you feel, you know?” she says.   
I stop walking and give her a disbelieving look. Like it's that easy. “You know I can’t do that. I already asked him to lunch… he said no. I told him the ball is in his court now. I’ll respect whatever he decides.”  
Agatha rolls her eyes, “That was before. That was just lunch. You should tell him that you’re _serious_.”  
“Why are you pushing for this?” I ask. She shrugs then loops an arm through mine and we start walking again. “Aren’t you…disappointed?”  
“I mean, sure, I liked you and all… who wouldn’t? You’re hot and you’re a great guy,” she says, as if it’s no big deal. I’m blushing something fierce, but she doesn’t mention it. “Baz is like my family,” she continues, “and if he were to date someone like you... that would make me very happy. He deserves for someone to love him. He just doesn’t think he does.”  
Agatha points to a brownstone across the street and says that it’s hers. She kisses me on the cheek and dashes away. After I watch her walk in and shut the door behind her, I’m left alone to ponder how Baz could ever feel like he doesn’t deserve to be loved. What happened with his ex? Was it just that he cheated? I say ‘just’ like I even understand. I’ve never been in a committed relationship before and I’ve never been cheated on.   
I try to imagine what it would be like. To be with someone for longer than two months, to live together, share a space and a life…to trust them, to love them, to count on a future with that person and then to have it all taken away in the blink of an eye. Devastating. It must be devastating.   
He can’t stop living his life though.  
And I intend to tell him so.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s Monday morning again. My third and final Monday morning here at Pitch Publishing. I’m a little sad that my internship here is almost over, but I have a newfound confidence today. Something occurred to me yesterday: Baz’s friends have been encouraging me to go for it with him. That means I must have a chance, right?   
Baz’s office is locked today, so I knock on the door and bounce a bit on the balls of my feet. I’m giddy.   
“Snow,” Baz says without a smile as he opens the door. He’s dressed neatly in a navy suit today and his hair is slicked back.   
“You look nice today,” I tell him.   
He gives me a tight smile, “Are you going to come in?”  
“Right,” I say. I move past him and take my usual seat. I start taking my things out of my bag. “So, I was thinking,” I say without looking up, “what if the Mage was Simon’s father?”  
“I don’t know,” Baz says immediately, “Isn’t that a little too boring? Expected?” I look up at him and blink. “I mean,” he continues, “It’s too perfect… too happy ending… sunshine and rainbows….you know.”  
I really don’t. “I thought the Mage was the bad guy.” It’s Baz’s turn to blink at me.   
“He knew Simon was in the care system his whole life and did nothing. He’s only gotten him out now because he’s old enough to use magic; to be trained. He’s using him.”  
Baz’s face falls and he looks thoughtful for a moment, “That’s dark, Snow. Used by his own father.” He takes his own notebook out and starts writing, “I love it… So, where’s his mum then?”  
We spend the better part of our morning discussing/arguing over possible fates of The Chosen One’s mother. I said that it would probably be best if she had died during childbirth. That way, it would make sense that she wasn’t searching for him or protecting him from the Mage. Baz thought it would be cool if she was under a forgetting spell and that we could have Simon Snow (still so weird saying my name like that) break it, so he could at least have one parent in the end. I don’t think it fits though, so we decide to stick a pin in the mom’s backstory and wait to see what comes to us most organically in the future.   
I’ve only got four more days here, but the way he talks to me makes it seem like we could be at this for years. It’s reassuring and gives me a nice, warm sensation in my chest if I think on it too long.   
Baz begins writing furiously in his notebook, so I don’t talk to him for quite a while. I don’t want to disturb him when he’s on a roll like this. I stand up and walk over to the window. The shades are drawn, as always. I push them aside and open the window. I stand there in the sunshine for a few minutes, watching people pass in front of the building. If I lean over, I can see Niall’s bike chained up on the rack.   
“Baz?” I don’t turn around. I’m watching a dog practically pulling its owner down the street. Baz gives me a small hum that let’s me know he’s listening. I try to keep my voice as casual as possible, “Let’s go somewhere. When’s the last time you’ve left this place?”  
I hear Baz’s pen fall to the desk. I still don’t turn around. I pretend to be completely preoccupied with my people watching and therefore not at all invested in whatever answer he gives me. I’m also a little afraid to turn around. I’m not sure how he’ll react to me prying.   
“It’s been a while, I suppose. I like it here,” he says coolly.   
He only seems moderately irritated, so I face him now, “A while like a few days?” I ask.   
Baz shrugs and looks down at his notes, “Maybe longer,” He looks back up at me, more annoyed now, “What…? Why are you asking?”  
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I say holding up my hands. “I was just curious. Agatha said that-“  
“Agatha?” Baz asks, squinting his eyes. He shakes his head, “Why were you talking to Agatha about me?”  
“Well, we went out for drinks and she mentioned that you had a really bad break up and that you haven’t gotten out much since-“  
“That was not her place to tell you,” Baz says, standing up. He starts pacing like a caged lion behind his desk. I am really regretting bringing this up.  
“Look, all I wanted to say was that you’re better than this. You’re too amazing to stay cooped up in here away from… life.”  
“Do you know that you don’t know me?” Baz practically shouts. This is not what I wanted at all.   
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” I say.  
“Well, you did,” Baz snaps, “Big time. Hopefully, in the future you and Agatha can find something more appropriate to talk about on your dates.”  
Baz walks over to his door and opens it then tilts his head towards the hallway. That’s my cue to get my things and leave, but I have questions.  
“Dates? It wasn’t a date.”  
Baz actually rolls his eyes at this, “You flirt with her all the time then go out for drinks and that isn’t a date?”  
“I’m sorry? I _flirt_ with her all the time?” I scoff. “What makes you say that? You just hole up here like you’re the Hunchback of Notre Dame or something… you’re so out of touch, would you even know flirting if you saw it?” That was mean. I shouldn’t have said that. I push a hand into my curls and leave it there. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I just want you to be happy.” Baz blinks like I’ve struck him. “I want you to leave this building, and I want you to live a real life. That’s all I wanted to say. I just went about it the wrong way.”  
“You should leave now,” Baz says. He won’t meet my eye, so I just nod and gather my things. As I walk past him on the way out the door he says, “Tell your girlfriend that Quasimodo would like to see her before she leaves today.”  
I drop my bag on the floor by my feet and whirl on him. “She’s not my fucking girlfriend. It wasn’t a date.”  
Baz walks into the hall and closes the office door behind him. He storms across the hall to his flat and hurriedly pushes through the door and slams it. I’m hot on his heels though. I open the door and stomp after him.  
“You’re jealous. Just admit-“ I stop in my tracks and take in my surroundings. “Baz… this is… incredible.”  
{+}  
“Get the fuck out, Snow!”  
I stay put. I don’t think I could leave if I wanted to. I can’t remember what I was going to say before. All thoughts have left my mind as I stand here with my mouth open taking in my surroundings. Baz’s apartment is unlike any flat I’ve ever been in. There are plants everywhere. Not just succulents or ferns like Penny and I have, I’m talking fruit trees and small palms, tomatoes, peppers, an entire herb garden. There are flowers and cacti… The walls are painted green with a mural of trees and the ceiling is painted like the summer sky.   
“It’s the bloody Secret Garden,” I say in awe. Before I even realize my feet are moving, I’m walking past Baz into the next room.   
“Are you deaf? Get. Out,” Baz demands.  
This room is completely full of gym equipment. Baz’s got a treadmill, a rowing machine, benches, free weights, and a few things that I’m not even familiar with. I keep walking and find myself in his kitchen. It’s like the set of Iron Chef in here… I peer into the open door of the adjoining room. A home theater equipped with a large screen, a row of cinema seats and a grand projector in the back.   
“You aren’t even thinking about leaving, are you?” I turn around to face Baz and find myself nose to nose with him. He’s livid.   
“Remove yourself now, or I’ll do it for you,” he says.   
He’s a fucking lost cause. I feel like a complete idiot after seeing this place. He’s got everything he could ever need. He’s dead set on staying here indefinitely. That much is clear. I won’t change that. I can’t. Only he can. When he’s ready. If he ever is.   
I lean against the countertop and take a deep breath. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I’ll cry later, I’m sure, but I don’t want to let on how sad his situation is, if he’s unaware. I jolt in surprise when I feel his hand on my arm. I hold up a hand before he can get a word out.   
“I’m leaving,” I tell him.   
I make my way to the front door as fast as I can. I can practically feel Baz’s breath down the back of my neck. I grab the handle and snatch the door open, but before I walk out, I turn to Baz again.   
“And I’m not coming back,” I say. Something briefly flashes in Baz’s eyes. Something I can’t quite place. Indignation maybe? Hurt? “I’m sorry. Tell Professor Bunce whatever you like. I’m just… I can’t… anymore. I thought…but you…”  
“Enough, Snow,” Baz snaps, “Just go.”   
I do. 

{+}

 

“You did the right thing, Si,” Penelope says, placing a cup of tea in front of me. We’re sitting at our tiny dining room table with her boyfriend Micah, who came back home with her after their internships ended. The table is covered in papers and books as usual, but we’ve cleared off a small place for tea and biscuits.   
“Then why do I feel so shitty?” I ask. I pick up a biscuit and turn it over and over in my hand. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. It’s been weeks since I stormed out of Baz’s flat. I’ve spoken to Dev and Niall and Agatha, but they’ve all been very careful not to give away anything about how he’s doing or what he’s up to now.   
“It be like that sometimes,” Micah says with a shrug. I give him a withering look and he smirks. I give him a small smile so he continues, “Seriously though, Simon, no one said the right thing was the easy thing. It usually isn’t. You did the right thing. You had to remove yourself from the situation.”   
I take in what he’s said and nod. Penny hops up and hugs my neck.  
“I know you miss him, but I’m so proud of you,” she says.   
I roll my eyes, “Thanks mom and dad,” I say, making them laugh. My smile falls quickly though, “I just wish I could talk to him.”  
As if on cue, we hear a knock at the door. We all trade slightly panicked glances. We weren’t expecting anyone. Could it really be Baz?  
Penny and I have a silent argument about who should answer the door. I win and watch as she sulks over to the door and presses her eye to the peep hole. Her shoulders slump and she opens the door with an annoyed tut.   
“Call me on the phone,” she scolds by way of greeting.   
“I’m not here for you, but it’s good to see you too, love,” I hear from the hallway. _Mitali._ She steps inside the flat and scans the room for me. Her eye contact could make a lesser man piss himself. “I’m here for you,” she tells me.   
I stand up and pull out a chair for her. She frowns at our mess as if her office is ever any better.   
“What’s this I hear about you quitting your internship?” she asks. Straight to the point, as always.   
“Well,” I mutter, reaching up to rub the back of my neck nervously, “it just wasn’t working out.”  
“How is that possible?” she asks, “Mr. Pitch gave nothing but rave reviews of your performance while you were there.”  
“He did?” I ask before I can stop myself.   
Mitali nods, “I went by to see you today, and the receptionist said that you quit.”  
“What did Baz say?” I ask. I’m almost afraid of the answer.  
“He was _unavailable for a conference at this time_ ” she says accentuating her annoyed words with finger quotes. “I made an appointment for a phone call Thursday. Ridiculous,” she rolls her eyes then levels me with a fearsome gaze, “What happened?”  
“I thought I could help him,” I admit. Mitali’s eyes soften as she realizes what I’m saying. I swallow the lump that’s rising in my throat, “but I can’t.”  
Mitali pats my knee sympathetically, “I thought you could too.”  
Penelope bursts into the room from the hallway where she and Micah have apparently been eavesdropping.  
“Wait, so you sent Simon there as some kind of a set up?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest and giving her mother a look that could give her a run for her money.   
“Not exactly a set up,” Mitali says, “I just thought that the two of them would get on. That’s all.”  
“Oh, mother,” Penny whines, plopping down in the chair across from me.   
“So, my writing wasn’t-“  
“Your writing is amazing. You are very talented,” Mitali assures me, “that’s why I thought you’d get on. Your writing styles are very similar. I imagine you two have a lot more in common as well. I wanted you to have a friend in the industry, but I also wanted for him to meet someone new. Someone from the real world, and not the stronghold he’s built for himself.”  
{+}  
I can’t sleep. I can’t get Baz out of my head. I’ve been lying here in the dark for what feels like hours… I want to call him. I want to know that he’s all right. I mean… I’m sure he’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like he was the one who got his hopes up. Is he wondering how I am? Is he sorry that my heart was broken? Does he even know? I left so much unsaid.   
Suddenly, I’m thinking about the other Simon. The one from the story. How would he react if he and his arch nemesis were separated? How would he feel? Suspicious, of course. Then perhaps, angry… lonely….scared…obsessed. He’d search high and low for his perfect roommate. And here I am. Giving up.  
I flip over on my stomach and grab my phone from the nightstand. It’s after 1 AM already and I have no messages. I open Instagram and see that I have a DM from Agatha. It’s a picture of Niall and Baz sitting outside at a restaurant with the caption, “Look who we found.” My heart leaps into my throat and I try to swallow it down. I check the time of the message. 4 hours ago. Was I laying in this bed thinking about him 4 hours ago? And what? He’s just out on the town for the first time in years looking completely cool, like it’s no big deal? I snatch my phone back up and study his face for longer than I’d like to admit. He looks gorgeous, and… at ease. Something molten starts churning in my stomach.   
I type Agatha a quick message: **You’ve achieved the impossible. Thanks for rubbing it in my face.** Then I promptly throw my phone across the room.   
He’ll go out with Agatha and Dev, but not me? I really didn’t mean anything at all to him, did I? He must think I’m completely insane.  
{+}  
“Simon….Simon! Wake up,” Penny is shaking me violently when I wake up to her panicked voice.  
“Wha-? What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling around in the blankets for my phone before I remember that I threw it before. “What time is it?” I ask. It’s still dark out.   
“A quarter past three. You’ve a visitor,” Penny says. I can see her teeth gleaming in the moonlight. I guess it’s a good visitor then.   
“Is it-?” I start, but I don’t dare ask.   
“Go,” she hisses, so I do.   
I walk out into the living room to see Micah with a bad case of bed head standing next to the open door with his arms crossed. When he sees me, he gives me a small crooked smile, “He wouldn’t come in.”  
He.  
I walk over behind the door and take a deep breath before peering around it. Baz Pitch is standing on my welcome mat. He’s wearing the same thing he was wearing in the picture Agatha took. Dark jeans and a dark green sweater with a white collar sticking out.   
“Snow,” he says, then he eyes Micah awkwardly.   
Micah claps me on the shoulder and gives me the “Alright?” look. I nod at him and he heads back to Penny’s room.   
When I look back at Baz, he’s looking down at his feet. It’s a little unsettling seeing him like this. Vulnerable and unsure. Not at all what I would ever expect from him.   
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” he mutters, “I just… was in the neighborhood and took a chance that you were up.”  
“You were in the neighborhood?” I ask. Baz nods. “At three in the morning?”  
“Yes,” he says. He still won’t look up from his damned feet, “So did I? Interrupt, I mean?”  
“Well, you may have forgotten, but humans like to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. The only thing you interrupted was my beauty rest,” My attempt at a joke doesn’t seem to lighten the mood at all. Baz’s eyes flick up just a bit towards the open door. He opens and closes his mouth like he’s about to ask something, but thinks better of it. Oh.  
“That was Micah,” I say, pointing behind myself with my thumb.  
Baz nods and swallows, “I see. Well, I… uh… I just…”  
Wait. _He’s_ babbling? “No, you goon, that’s Micah. Penny’s Micah. The American. I told you all about him. Do you listen to anything I say?”  
“Oh,” he says. He’s trying to stay cool, but I can tell that he’s relieved.  
“Yeah, oh,” I say, rolling my eyes. I rake a hand through my hair and he finally looks up. “Can I ask why you’re here? Did you have something to say or do you just miss me?”  
Again my joke does nothing for his mood. If anything, his expression has darkened.   
“Yes,” he replies.   
“Yes? I can ask you?” I’m confused.   
“Yes, I miss you,” he says. His eyes have gone full blown fiery and I’m pretty sure my heart has stopped completely.   
“You do?” My question is barely audible, but he nods.   
“I can’t write without you,” Baz explains.   
My shoulders slump immediately. Of course. It’s work related.   
“Ah,” is all I can think of to say.   
“And also,” Baz says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I raise my eyebrows expectantly and he looks over my head, as if it’s too much to look in my eyes anymore. “I want you.”  
I make an odd strangled sound, and my mouth drops open. He wants me?  
“You were right, ok?” Baz continues, “About everything. I was pushing you away because I didn’t want to admit that I had feelings for you. I was jealous that you were spending time with Agatha and not me and I should have just gone to fucking lunch…but I didn’t. I was too afraid to leave, and I made it weird. Because I’m weird. I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he pauses to push his falling hair out of his eyes, “I got hurt. I got hurt really bad, Snow, and I never want to feel that way again, but… I want you. I want you bad. I’ll risk-”  
I’ve heard enough. I hook my hand around his neck and crush our lips together. Baz doesn’t hesitate. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer and brings the other hand to my face. I loop a finger around his belt loop and pull him into my apartment. I hear him kick the door closed behind us.   
{+}


	8. Chapter 8

I almost can’t believe I’m actually lying in bed with Baz Pitch right now. I can’t believe that we just kissed and did...other things for hours. I’m not entirely sure I haven’t fallen asleep and walked into some sort of blissful dream after I tossed my phone into the corner. But no. I can definitely feel Baz in my arms. Warm and just a little sweaty. His head is on my chest, his ear right over my heart, and his eyes are closed. I would think that he was sleeping if it weren’t for the little smile he occasionally tries to suppress. I start combing a hand through his hair and his smile grows bigger.  
“I thought you were alseep,” he says without opening his eyes.  
“Yeah, right,” I respond, “like I’m going to sleep with Baz Pitch on my chest. What if I’m dreaming or what if you disappear?”  
“You’re awake and I’m not going anywhere,” he tells me, “Also, it’s weird when you say my whole name like that.”  
“Sorry,” I shrug, “but Baz Pitch is in my room.”  
Baz laughs and pinches my side playfully then starts stroking my chest lightly. I fall asleep soon after, but my dream doesn’t hold a candle to my real life anymore.

{+}

Baz and I wake up at nearly 1 in the afternoon. Or rather, he wakes up, bolts upright and has a mini panic attack, thus, waking me up.  
I reach over and touch his arm gently, making him jolt a bit. He quickly turns to me, wide eyed.  
“You ok?” I ask.  
Baz places a hand over his heart and tries to tame his breath. He reaches over and squeezes my hand, “I’m fine,” he says, still short of breath, “I just...”  
“Forgot you were here?” I finish for him.  
“Yeah,” he admits, “I haven’t woken up anywhere besides my own flat in a long time. It was a bit disorienting.”  
“I bet,” I say, my heart sinking a little. Poor Baz. So many new things all at once. “How about we stay at your place next time?” I suggest.  
Baz gives me an odd expression and I instantly regret my words.  
“I mean to say, that is, if you want there to be a next time,” I look away awkwardly and hear Baz scoff.  
“Of course I do, you dolt,” he says, “I wouldn’t have come all the way out here to the dodgy end of bum fuck Egypt for just anyone you know.”  
I roll my eyes and give him a little shove.  
“Someone is feeling better,” I say.  
Baz gives me a crooked smile so I push back his hair and kiss his forehead.  
“I’ll make you breakfast,” I tell him, “Be prepared to face Penny and Micah. They think they’re my parents.”  
{+}

“So that went well,” I say as we leave my flat after a long and lively meal with my best friends. Penny and Micah adored Baz, just like I knew they would.  
Penny pulled me aside after we ate and told me that she’ll save “the talk” for another day. I appreciate her ability to read people. I think she could tell that Baz wouldn’t handle feeling pressured well today.  
“It did,” Baz agrees, “I quite like your friends.”  
We arrive at Pitch Publishing hand in hand. I reach out to pull the door open for Baz, but it bursts open before I get the chance.  
“Oh my God,” Agatha bellows, “what is this?”  
“Hello, Wellbelove,” Baz says coolly.  
“I figured you went home after you disappeared last night, but now I see you found someone better to do,” she says with a smirk.  
“Classy,” Baz replies, making her snort. She beams up at me.  
“Still mad at me?” She asks.  
I wasn’t mad at you... just a little... miffed,” I grind out.  
“Jealous,” Agatha says flatly, “You were jealous that I could do what you what you couldn’t... and you’re welcome.”  
“Ech, so smug,” Baz says shouldering past her. Apparently, he’s heard enough from her. He saunters over to the lift and presses the up button, “You coming?” he asks me.  
I look at Agatha and she winks at me.  
“Of course,” I say.  
{+}  
The doors close and we’re alone. Baz let’s out a long sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.  
“That girl,” he remarks.  
I hum my agreement, “She’s something else.”  
Baz let’s out a small chuckle, “Understatement. She’ll probably insist with having the second dance with you at our wedding and take all of the credit for this during her speech.”  
I start a bit as all of the air leaves my lungs. I turn to Baz slowly then blink at him. He looks like he did this morning; terrified and lost. I reach over and grab his hand and he looks down at our feet. My heart pounds in my chest and a welcome warmth grows in my chest, spreading throughout my whole body.  
“I’ll dance with her at our wedding,” I tell him. Something in him loosens and he looks back up at my face. “Though I think Mitali might have dibs on the credit.”  
Baz breaks out into a wide grin then bends down a bit to kiss me. This kiss is wild and urgent and all consuming.  
I’m vaguely aware of the ding announcing our arrival to the top floor. Baz reaches behind me for a moment and I hear a loud buzz.  
He’s stopped the lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated! Please read my other works as well. 💕


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